


Wildhearts

by Werepirechick



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Autistic Entrapta (She-Ra), Catra Is Bad At Feelings And Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Entrapta Is Even Worse With Feelings And Relationships, Everyone is a gay disaster, F/F, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 02, Scorpia Has Two Crushes And She Could And Will Kill For Them, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, She-Ra Season 2 Spoilers, Touch-Starved, Useless Lesbians, also sad, an abused catgirl, an ostracized arachnid girl, and a socially inept inventor walk into a jail cell, everyone here is gay and ridiculous, in this house we respect and love our autistic mad scientist, jailbreak, just a lil bit, only briefly! and not in detail!!!, this is the sad lesbians club, well not yet but they'll get there soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: Guards get out of her way as Scorpia storms into the prison. Her rank is far above theirs, and even if it wasn’t, she’d get them out of her way regardless of consequence. She’s heard more rumors on the way here. About how Hordak’s personal guard dragged an unconscious Catra from his private chambers. About how she’d been thrown into a transport like they didn’t care if she was injured worse.They should have called Scorpia. Scorpia wouldneverhave treated Catra like that. She would have held her fellow force captain’s head carefully, would have carried Catra gently from the halls of the Horde’s inner rings. Scorpia would have taken her friend from there, wouldn’t have broken the impossibly strong yet fragile person in her arms, she would have taken Catra and-Would she have brought Catra here? To the grim cells, housing dozens of Horde prisoners? Would Scorpia have lain Catra on the cold floor in one of those cells, claws reluctantly closing chains around her wrists?Scorpia stands in front of Catra’s cell and doesn’t have an answer.





	Wildhearts

**Author's Note:**

> other people: catradora! glimmerdora!! scortra!!!
> 
> me: it's rarepair time.
> 
> hello everyone, i'm here to champion my case that the horde trio should poly and also run away to sort out their emotional issues in some idyllic hideaway. there will be a SEQUEL, and possibly a THREEQUEL. or whatever the term for that is, idc. the whole point here is to have feelings, feelings, and more feelings. enjoy :3c

They don’t call her when Catra is taken to one of their many prisons. Scorpia is busy coordinating paperwork Catra has been shirking. It’s not until the fifth time she’s accidentally crumpled an important document (her pincers are really not paper friendly) that the news makes its way down the gossip chain to her.

Force Captain Catra has been imprisoned, pending trial, facing charges of treason to the Horde.

Scorpia’s pincers shred the file in her hands when she hears those words. The lower ranked soldiers idly talking in the hall give her side looks, eyes judging Scorpia for her trembling arms and stiff tail.

“What… did you just say?” Scorpia asks in a controlled voice.

They respect her enough for her title and rank that one politely replies, “That newest force captain committed treason like, not even a few hours ago?”

“I heard she traded secrets to the Rebellion,” says the other soldiers.

“No, I’m pretty sure she made a power grab. Tried to kill someone in the upper ranks- maybe even Hordak himself.”

“That does sound pretty likely. I mean, look what that psycho did to Shadow Weaver, she was bound to snap again-”

Scorpia’s claw hits the wall right above where the soldier’s head is, looming over the wide-eyed women as the metal shrieks against her exoskeleton.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you against your commanding officer,” Scorpia says, low and furious. She’s taller than both of the other women; she sees the fear in their eyes as her tail twists in the air threateningly. She could crush them both in seconds.

“Y-yes ma’am,” stutters the first.

“Sorry, ma’am,” says the second, barely more composed.

Scorpia leans in closer, uncaring for the way the women flinch away. “Thank you,” she says, forcing her voice even. “Now, _tell me where they took her.”_

The soldiers scramble to supply the information. Scorpia memorizes it- burns it into her mind. They yelp as Scorpia yanks her claw free of the wall, leaving a gaping hole in the metal as she stalks away. Her stride is strong, purposeful- the image of an imposing force captain. Internally, Scorpia thinks a part of her is screaming in panic.

 

-/-

 

Scorpia has never had friends. She’s had plenty of fellow soldiers, friendly comrades fighting alongside her to further the Horde’s reach- but friends? No, not really.

Her royal status sets her apart to begin with, a princess among peers who’ve been raised on horror stories of those fabled magical women. Scorpia has no magic, she’s as ordinary as everyone else. Except… she isn’t, really.

She’s bigger. She’s stronger. Even when she’s little, other children avoided her, listening to the cautioning whispers of caretakers- _she has poison in her veins._ Scorpia’s claws and tail have always been part of her, the thick chitin only getting thicker and sharper as she grew. Fragile things break in her grip. People watch her tail with shallowly hidden wariness. The poison in her veins runs deep through her core and Scorpia tries her best to never let it touch her allies.

She’s made mistakes, though. Accidents in training and outside of it. A too quick strike in a simulation, thinking her teammate is an enemy behind her. A hair-trigger slash as someone spooks her, either late at night or early in the day or just- whenever. It only happens half a dozen times in her whole life. It’s still enough to give her a reputation that carries weight. _Poison in her veins,_ they’ll whisper as she enters a room.

 _Hello,_ she’ll reply, smiling brightly and hoping someone will see past rumors. They don’t, typically. She’s given respect, for her title and earned rank both, but that doesn’t mean she’s treated like other soldiers. People still shy away from shaking hands with her, no matter how cheery she is when they meet. They watch her claws and her tail and try to distract her with something, avoiding her touch. Scorpia always notices. She never comments.

Catra has been different. Right from the first moment they meet, when Scorpia extends a pincer and a hopeful smile, Catra doesn’t step back and avert her eyes.

“We’re not here to make niceties,” she says, and bats Scorpia’s deadly pincer away with a clawed hand. The casual touch and dismissal endears her to Scorpia immediately, along with the tail that sways behind Catra, the sharpness of her teeth and nails. Animal ears flicker in annoyance atop her head, and Scorpia barely restrains cooing over their cuteness.

“It’s nice to meet you anyway,” Scorpia says sincerely. _You’re sort of like me,_ she doesn’t say. Catra probably wouldn’t appreciate being compared to her, not in the way Scorpia means it.

Catra scowls and huffs and says a lot of angry things, but she’s not so bad. She’s just different from most people, that’s all. Kind of like Scorpia. Kind of like Entrapta, too. Scorpia hasn’t let herself say it aloud, worried about breaking another fragile thing, but she’s come to think that maybe because they don’t fit in with anyone else, maybe they fit in with each other.

Scorpia knew that wouldn’t last. Good things don’t last long- not _truly_ good things. The Horde demands diligence, focus. Indulging in pointless shenanigans with a not-quite-imprisoned princess and a sulky force captain isn’t something Scorpia can keep doing forever.

Still. She didn’t think the end to that would come so soon, and not like this. Never like this.

Guards get out of her way as Scorpia storms into the prison. Her rank is far above theirs, and even if it wasn’t, she’d get them out of her way regardless of consequence. She’s heard more rumors on the way here. About how Hordak’s personal guard dragged an unconscious Catra from his private chambers. About how she’d been thrown into a transport like they didn’t care if she was injured worse.

They should have called Scorpia. Scorpia would _never_ have treated Catra like that. She would have held her fellow force captain’s head carefully, would have carried Catra gently from the halls of the Horde’s inner rings. Scorpia would have taken her friend from there, wouldn’t have broken the impossibly strong yet fragile person in her arms, she would have taken Catra and-

Would she have brought Catra here? To the grim cells, housing dozens of Horde prisoners? Would Scorpia have lain Catra on the cold floor in one of those cells, claws reluctantly closing chains around her wrists?

Scorpia stands in front of Catra’s cell and doesn’t have an answer.

She taps the print scanner- it knows her pincertip, not fingertip- and lowers the shimmering forcefield to step inside. It comes back up behind her, Scorpia minding her tail as it does. The dimness of the cell doesn’t fully hide the shape curled up in the furthest corner, and Scorpia looks for bright glinting eyes in the dark, frowning deeper as she finds none.

“Catra,” Scorpia says, stepping nearer to the shape in the corner. “Catra, it’s Scorpia. I came as soon as I heard.”

Catra says nothing. Scorpia moves closer, cautious of her friend’s state. What did Hordak do to her? Scorpia doesn’t smell blood, but there’s a faint rattle to Catra’s breathing. Scorpia still recalls how Shadow Weaver could break prisoners to their core without ever drawing blood. It’s not a stretch to imagine Hordak- even more powerful than the vanished spellcaster- having ways to do the same.

“Catra, are you okay?” Scorpia asks, kneeling as she reaches the point where she could simply reach out and touch Catra’s shoulder. She itches to do so, but holds herself back. Catra doesn’t like sudden touches. “I- I’ll call someone if you’re hurt, you’re still a force captain and are entitled to-”

“ _Nothing,”_ Catra hisses suddenly, making Scorpia snap her mouth shut. A cold gold eye glances over Catra’s shoulder. “I’m entitled to _nothing,_ or do you not understand what _treason_ entails?”

The disdain in Catra’s voice relaxes Scorpia for a second. It’s normal, a part of Catra’s bravado. It means she’s alright for the most part. “I know,” Scorpia says, hope rising in her, “but I can still order someone to do it anyway.”

Catra is silent for a long moment, once again not looking at Scorpia. The moment drags on to the point when Scorpia can’t help but ask, “What happened? We were only apart for what, a few hours? Maybe half of the afternoon? You didn’t seriously commit treason, obviously, so how’d this situation get so- so-”

“Scorpia.”

Scorpia stops rambling, her brief hope sinking at Catra’s tone.

“You know why I’m down here.” Catra’s tail curls tighter around her crouched legs, her shoulders hunched. She’s so far from who she’s supposed to be- tall, proud, smug, posturing to prove how _amazing_ she is- that it hurts Scorpia to see.

It takes a moment for Catra’s words to make sense. Scorpia jolts as she realizes what’s been implied, and she blurts, “I swear I didn’t tell anyone! I- I was even covering for you while you looked! I did all the reports, and finished budgeting, and…” Scorpia’s claws lock up tightly, trembling again, ever so slightly. “And I would never, _ever_ sell you out like that,” she finishes firmly.

“I know it wasn’t you,” Catra says, hunching further on herself. “I got sloppy. I forgot the walls have ears, here. Hordak’s little imp told him- _recorded_ my confession. I was dead before I even lied to his face.”

“Wh- no, when I was-” Scorpia’s head swirls, guilt washing over her. “Oh. Oh my- Catra, Catra I am _so sorry,_ if I hadn’t pushed you to talk, none of this would have happened.”

“Doubtful,” Catra mutters with a rueful snort. “Even if I hadn’t admitted it aloud, he probably suspected what was going on anyway. I let success get to my head- I let myself be _manipulated_ by that _witch._ I never- I _never_ should have thought I could-”

Catra stops, breathing becoming shallow, shoulders shaking. Scorpia’s eyes are stinging. This isn’t supposed to be happening- Catra has come so far, proven to be the most effective force captain they’ve ever had, she’s smart and talented and doesn’t belong crumpled in a corner, hiding in the dark.

“Catra-” Scorpia starts, finally giving into her impulse to reach out and hold her friend.

Except Catra whirls and hisses loudly, fangs gleaming. “Don’t you _dare_ touch me!” Catra growls, thin fur bristling.

Scorpia backs up immediately, saying, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” and pushing away the soft hurt of not being able to physically comfort her friend. People don’t like her touching them; Catra is no different, Scorpia knew that.

It still hurts, being sized up by Catra like they’re enemies. She hasn’t done that since the first weeks of knowing each other. Scorpia already misses the fond exasperation that would sometimes cross Catra’s face, in the wee hours of the night, when the two of them and Entrapta were seemingly the only people awake in all the Fright Zone.

“Catra… I want to help you.”

“ _No one can help me._ Least of all you. Now go away. You hanging around here will just make it look like we’re plotting something together- you’re lucky as it is that Hordak doesn’t care you covered for me. Push it, and you’ll end up in one of these cells faster than you can blink.”

“I won’t- and we are, and it’ll _work._ I’ll get you out of here, but Catra, please, you have to work with m-”

“I said _LEAVE!”_ Catra roars, lunging at Scorpia. The sudden attack, the already turbulent emotions inside Scorpia, her thoughts get tangled and she can’t react to Catra pouncing on her with anything except base instinct. Her tail lashes out as Scorpia falls backwards.

Catra ends up on top of her, nearly at the end of her chains’ length. Her harsh panting is accompanied by the prickle of her claws, the gouges they’ve left in a plate of chitin starting to burn. Scorpia can’t breathe, feeling the heat of Catra’s warm body leech into her tail.

Catra slowly looks at herself, examining the thick, flexible limb that’s wrapped around her midriff. “…You didn’t stab me,” Catra observes mildly, disbelieving. “Why?”

Scorpia swallows, shaking. “I- I don’t know. Maybe you got lucky?” Scorpia laughs weakly and tries to unlock her tail. _Poison in her veins,_ whispers her memories. She could have poisoned Catra, who already looks and sounds ill. She could have lashed out with her pincers instead, deadly if aimed for the right vulnerable spots.

Catra’s claws are equally deadly, and they withdraw from the small injury she’s given Scorpia, flicking small droplets. Scorpia sits up as Catra moves away, replacing a buffer between them. Catra moves to lick her claws clean and Scorpia panics, shouting, “ _No!”_

Catra stops, tongue adorably sticking out its tip. Scorpia can’t spare thought for it. “Don’t- lick it. Wipe it off- here, I have a handkerchief, uh, somewhere-”

“Why not?” Catra asks, unimpressed. She takes the handkerchief anyway.

“Because, well, uh.” Scorpia grasps for something that won’t sound quite as bad as _I have poison in my veins._ Catra probably wouldn’t listen if she said that. “It’s. Bad. Healthwise. To ingest someone else’s blood.”

Catra flicks an ear. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. It’s fine.”

“Please don’t, just this once?” Scorpia pleads.

Catra rolls her eyes, a gesture that’s much closer to her usual self, and wipes her claws with the handkerchief. The stains that bloom across it are more purple than red, proof that the strangeness to Scorpia is in every part of her. She stands up and walks to the door before it can be handed back.

“I’m going to talk to Hordak,” she says, determination filling her already chilly blood with ice. This isn’t going to happen. She is not going to lose one of her only friends in the world.

Catra snorts, the sound of her glowing restraints against the floor following her retreating footsteps. “It won’t do any good,” she warns, returning to her corner of shadows.

Scorpia doesn’t have a reply- none that won’t come out treasonous and angry, anyway. The walls have ears, like Catra said. Anyone and everyone is suspect, now. Scorpia taps the scanner and leaves, though reluctant to abandon Catra to the darkness of the prison. But nothing will get done by her being here. If Scorpia wants to fix this, she has to go right to the top of the chain of command.

She doesn’t turn around as she marches away, and so doesn’t see Catra sniff at her nails, then the handkerchief, curling around it in a ball of misery.

 

-/-

 

Scorpia has nothing but the utmost respect for her leaders. She’s as loyal to the Horde as her predecessors were, when they gifted the Black Garnet to the newly born armies. Her parents died in the initial fighting with Bright Moon, and so it falls to her to continue their legacy of unfaltering duty.

But. This has to be a mistake. Not that she’s questioning her superiors- no, no it must have just been a misunderstanding. Catra is easily misunderstood. It takes a little more patience than some people might have to translate what she means. There was a miscommunication, and now Catra and everyone else has the wrong idea.

There is no way Hordak purposefully threw Catra in prison, not with intention of execution or banishment or who knows what else. Catra is too valuable to the Horde’s mission; she’s powerful and cunning, standing out from the hundreds of other soldiers. They can’t just- get _rid_ of her. Right?

Getting into Hordak’s inner sanctum is easier than she thought it would be. She just has to flash her badge and state her name, and one of the guards duck inside to inform Hordak of her request to meet him. It takes a few minutes, in which Scorpia bores a hole in the door with her stare, stinger twitching as her tail curls and uncurls. She doesn’t even try to stop it, ignoring the blatant staring from the guard.

The other returns. The doors are opened to her and Scorpia enters. She finds Hordak within his maze of machines and contraptions, his back to her as she approaches, snapping a salute and announcing herself.

Hordak turns, blank sclera staring her down. “This has better be good, Force Captain Scorpia.”

“Yes! Uh, sir. It is very good- or, uh, I mean it’s very _important.”_ Scorpia stands with her back straight, arms folded behind her as she looks Hordak in the eye- she isn’t scared, no, she’s just a little nervous about talking to the leader of the Horde. “It’s about Force Captain Catra,” Scorpia says, pushing her words to come out calm and concise. Rambling in front of Hordak is beyond inappropriate. “I, uh. I believe there’s been a mist- a miscommunication.”

“Oh?” Hordak asks, tone dangerous. Scorpia gulps.

“Yes. I have been informed that Catra is slated for trial, charged with treason.” Hordak stares at her, unmoving. Scorpia continues as she gets no response. “Force Captain Catra is an exemplary soldier, sir. She’s brought us closer to conquest than any captain before her. We’re not really going to waste that potential, right?”

Hordak is still staring at her. Scorpia wonders, nerves fraying, why she hasn’t see him blink even once.

“It isn’t a waste,” Hordak says finally, turning away. He picks up a tool of some kind and goes back to creating sparks on a panel of circuitry.

“Sir?” Scorpia asks.

“Catra has not only failed repeatedly to eliminate She-Ra, but has squandered resources, ignored direct orders, let an incredibly dangerous prisoner escape, and has _lied_ to me.” Hordak’s gadget sprays bright sparks across his work table, illuminating his imposing figure. “Catra has already wasted her _potential,_ Force Captain.”

Scorpia feels like the floor is falling out from under her. No. No, this isn’t happening. “Sir, please, I- I could help her redeem herself, if you’d just-”

“Force Captain Scorpia,” Hordak utters darkly. He doesn’t even raise his voice; those three words are enough to stop Scorpia cold. “If you do not have anything _actually_ important to tell me, then I suggest you escort yourself out. Unless you are ungrateful for the mercy I have granted your misguided _collusion_ with Catra, and would prefer to join her in that cell.”

“No- sir,” Scorpia manages. Her throat is tight. Her pincers scrape against each other, the hastily patched scratches on her shoulder burn. She can’t help Catra if they’re both imprisoned, so she quells her temper. “Thank you, sir. Sorry to interrupt your work.”

Hordak doesn’t acknowledge her words. He doesn’t even properly dismiss her- just ignoring her presence as Scorpia leaves.

Scorpia struggles to keep calm as she winds her way back out of the large rooms, resisting need to grab something physical and _crush it._ Negotiating and scheming and planning is so hard for her- that’s Catra’s job. Scorpia takes things head on, sometimes through ambushes, defeating them with brute strength and the element of surprise.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do, now. Scorpia is without a clear next step, and feels fear clawing its way up her spine.

Briefly, Scorpia catches the glint of red eyes somewhere atop the giant machines surrounding her. The hushed sound of Entrapta’s hair grasping pipes is only there for a split second, and then it and the red eyes are gone.

Not even from their other friend will she receive help. Entrapta is a wildcard, and however much Scorpia loves that about her, it makes her an iffy ally when it comes down to the line. Scorpia grits her teeth and keeps walking.

 

-/-

 

Catra is in her corner still, as Scorpia returns. She’s brought a tray of food with her- force captain quality, from her own rations. Catra needs more than meager prison food to keep her strength up.

Scorpia falters for a beat, upon entering the cell. There are claw marks surrounding Catra’s corner. Dozens of them, done in violent slashes. Scorpia’s heart twinges painfully, knowing she’s missed Catra’s breakdown and left her friend all alone to endure it.

She can help with the aftermath, though. “I have your favorite,” Scorpia starts quietly, coming over. “Steak and potato wedges. I even got the cooks to leave the steak rare.”

“I’m not hungry,” Catra replies dully. Her tail doesn’t even twitch as Scorpia sits nearby, setting the tray closer to Catra. Bicolored eyes glance to it, and she pushes it away from them both.

Scorpia sighs. “You’ve got a high calorie diet requirement, Catra. You gotta eat.”

“There’s no point,” Catra says, and Scorpia hates how tired her voice is. “You brought me lunch instead of a key for these.” Catra tugs on the glowing chains, listless. “I know I’m not getting out of here. I’m done.”

Scorpia hurries to deny that. “Don’t say that! I’ll- I’ll talk with Hordak again, I probably just caught him in a bad mood. He’ll understand once I explain that you-”

“That I _what?”_ Catra growls. “That I’m still somehow useful? That I can still _fix_ this? Face it, Scorpia, I’ve used up all my chances. I couldn’t stop Adora, I couldn’t stop She-Ra, and I couldn’t even keep a powerless witch in her _cell._ ” She hunches on herself, claws digging into her arms and piercing slowly. “It’s my own fault I’m here. I deserve whatever punishment I get for it.”

Scorpia sees blood well up around Catra’s clawtips, heart seizing. “Catra- _stop it-!”_

Her friend flinches violently as Scorpia grabs her, yowling. Scorpia tries to be as gentle as possible, holding Catra’s hands away from her body so she can’t hurt herself anymore. It’s then that she spots matted clumps of fur all over her arms, some scratches deep enough to show through. Catra bares her sharp teeth in a wild snarl, eyes angry and _scared._

“Oh, _Catra,”_ Scorpia breathes, her own eyes stinging. “What’d you do to yourself?”

“ _What do you care?!”_ Catra shrieks, puffing up, ears flat on her head. “I have _nothing!_ I’m weak, I screwed up, I have nowhere left to go. The Rebellion would shoot me on sight, the Horde is gonna- they’ll send me to Beast Island, if they don’t just loose a _firing squad_ on me first-!”

“You have _me!”_ Scorpia exclaims, keeping hold of Catra’s wrists even as she resists. (Fragile broken things in her claws-) “I won’t let them do that to you- _no one_ is going to hurt you, Catra. I promise. I _swear it.”_

Catra shouldn’t cry. She shouldn’t shudder and bite back a wounded sound. She’s supposed to be fearless, terrifying- not curled in front of Scorpia like she’s shrunk three sizes, going limp in her hold and not even complaining about being touched. Her dear friend, her wildcat. Reduced to this.

No one likes Scorpia touching them, least of all her prickly little friend. Still, Catra doesn’t try to pull away as Scorpia gathers her close, wrapping her spiny arms around her. Scorpia is not soft. She has sharp points everywhere and poison in her veins. But Catra isn’t soft, either. She’s all teeth and claws, biting any hand that dares to reach for her.

Maybe it’s good that Scorpia is covered in hard chitin. Catra can bite Scorpia all she wants, and Scorpia won’t ever cry in pain.

Catra’s nails twist in Scorpia’s uniform, making little holes. She shudders, head down. “You’re an idiot,” Catra whispers harshly, “you’re going to get dragged down with me.”

“Then I’ll just carry us both back up,” Scorpia replies, meaning that completely.

They lapse into silence. Catra shakes and bites back her tears; Scorpia shields her from view and waits patiently. She doesn’t notice until it’s already happened, but her tail wraps itself loosely around them, stinger dangerously close to Catra. Scorpia nearly apologizes, almost draws it away, but Catra’s long, feather light tail twitches, running its tip along the jagged chitin.

Scorpia barely breathes, savoring this moment of connection long as she can. As soon as she gets her feet back under her, Catra will stop letting herself be touched, and this tenuous affection will be over. Scorpia quietly tells herself that so long as Catra is alright, then it wouldn’t matter if this was as much as she ever gets.

The forcefield of the cell abruptly turning off has them both hissing and flinching- Scorpia’s tail whipping around to aim a strike, Catra’s ferocity returning all at once and her fangs flashing.

Red eyes stare at them, blank and lifeless. Then, the person lowers herself to the ground, long purple hair twining on itself as she lifts her mask. Entrapta gives them both a funny smile.

“I was wonderin’ where you both went!” she chirps. She looks around, amusedly confused. “Why’re we all hiding down here? Is this our new hangout room? It doesn’t have any couches. Or electrical outlets. Oh well, I can improvise.” Her attention snaps back to them, and her ever curious eyes land on Catra’s trailing chains. “Ooh- is this a new game? Or some kind of Horde thing? You don’t look very comfortable, though, Catra. You should get those cuts looked at.”

No one responds to the barrage of words, stuck staring. Entrapta tilts her head, her hair scooping her up to be cross-legged above the floor.

“You sure are bein’ quiet today,” she says, laughing awkwardly.

Catra’s ears go flat again and her slit pupils turn narrow. Scorpia tries to keep herself between her friends as she speaks. “Uh, hey, Entrapta!” Scorpia says, trying to be normal and mostly failing. “What’re you… How’d you even find us?”

“Oh, I just took a peek through those personal files everyone here has. They keep those very current, thank goodness.”

“The personal files of every Horde soldier. Which are only accessible with executive clearance.”

“Mhm.”

“…How?”

“There’s always a backdoor to a code,” Entrapta says, waving a hand. “But don’t worry! I improved the entire system while I was in there. No one but me could hack it anymore.”

Catra speaks then, sneer clear in her voice. “Bet Hordak will praise you for being such a good little overachiever.”

“Maybe! I haven’t told him. I don’t think he’s noticed half of the things I’ve fixed, but hey, he’s a busy guy! I’m sure he has better things to do than, you know, listen to me ramble about every little upgrade I make…” Entrapta stops, glancing at their expressions. She purses her lips, her hair carrying her closer. “You seem upset. Why’re you upset? Did I interrupt the game at a bad moment?”

“This isn’t a damn _game_ , you oblivious _idiot!”_ Catra snaps, making to lunge for Entrapta. Scorpia holds her back, meaningless words of comfort tumbling out of her mouth. It’s no use, neither of her friends are listening.

“Oh. I missed something again, didn’t I?” Entrapta says, looking chastised. “I’m sorry, it’s hard for me to read things properly- you know my research into socialization is still in it’s infant stages, what with all the _new_ projects you keep giving me, not that I’m complaining, I mean who _wouldn’t_ wanna solve the mysteries of First One’s-”

“Oh my god shut _UP!”_ Catra shouts, straining in Scorpia’s arms. “Nobody cares about your stupid projects! Hordak is just using you until you stop being useful- and then he’ll get rid of you, just like he got rid of me!”

“Get rid of- what?!” Entrapta’s hair fluffs up in shock. “When did someone get rid of _you?_ Can people really do that?! And that’s totally illogical, you have so much to contribute still. It’d be counterproductive to pull someone like you from the frontlines!”

Catra stares at Entrapta, dumbfounded, only edging on furious, now. Scorpia looks between them, petting Catra’s agitated hair fretfully. This is slightly better than Catra trying to outright attack their friend, but the pause is painfully awkward.

“You really don’t get it,” Catra says, sounding aghast.

“Get what?” Entrapta questions.

“That you _stole my place._ ”

“What? I didn’t take anything from you-”

“My favor! My _usefulness!_ Hordak replaced me with you and now I’m paying the price for letting you live long enough to _ruin my life!”_

“Hey, now,” Scorpia tries to soothe, stomach in knots. “Entrapta didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter if she did or not!” Catra shouts. “She did anyway and now I’m about as good as _trash_ to the Horde!” Her fury turns back to Entrapta and Catra spits, “I should have _killed you_ when I found you- then I might’ve had a shot at lasting longer than a few months as Hordak’s second. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this fucking _cell_ if you never came alone with your- your insane experiments and worthless social skills!”

A ringing quiet follows Catra’s brutal voice. She goes limp in Scorpia’s arms again, energy used up. Scorpia holds her gently, heart aching, and looks to Entrapta.

The princess has a stricken expression, sinking down to the floor. Her hair is forming a protective snarl around her, possibly subconsciously.

“I… I didn’t realize,” Entrapta says, her eyes lost. “I thought we were all getting along really well.”

“She didn’t mean it,” Scorpia says, unable to stand the way Entrapta is becoming so small. Both she and Catra- they’re suddenly like glass figurines, and Scorpia has never been able to stop her claws from breaking those.

Entrapta shakes her head, sounding deeply saddened. “No, no, she’s right. My experiments are insane and my social skills are pretty worthless. I didn’t notice what I was doing. I never notice when I’m making people upset until it’s too late. I’m sorry, Catra. I was only trying to help you.”

Catra doesn’t answer, turning her face from view, hiding within her own long, tangling hair. Entrapta droops further, before springing upright again and exclaiming, “I’ll just stop helping Hordak! I’ll- I’ll tell him he needs you and not me and then I’ll just- just… leave, I guess?”

“No, no, no one is leaving,” Scorpia says quickly. The thought of losing either of them- or _both_ of them- makes her breath catch. She can’t go back to being all alone. She can’t let this slip away from her without even _trying_ to keep it.

“It wouldn’t do any good,” Catra says, voice slightly muffled by her hair. She turns her head and a single eye peeks out through her mane. “I’m already imprisoned; he’s made up his mind about me. You leaving will just result in someone shooting you in the back- so at least stick around and actually make use of what you took from me, idiot.”

“I- I didn’t want to take anything, though,” Entrapta insists, tugging on her hair. “I just wanted to study and build, I never…”

Entrapta is shaking like Catra had been, as her weakening voice trails off. Catra says nothing. Scorpia looks at Entrapta in her defensive ball and takes a chance, opening one of her arms to the princess. Entrapta looks at it, and then her, in wonder.

“C’mere,” Scorpia says. By some small miracle, Catra doesn’t protest the addition, and Entrapta approaches slowly, like a scared little creature. A tendril of her magical hair reaches for Scorpia’s claw, winding around it and up to her bicep. Scorpia tugs gently and Entrapta comes closer, winding more tendrils around Scorpia, and a thinner, more tentative tendril around Catra’s ankle.

Catra doesn’t fuss, just letting out a heavy sigh. Scorpia holds them both in different ways, tailored to what they’ll accept and be comfortable with. Catra isn’t caged in against the wall, an escape route clear for her. Entrapta doesn’t like anyone to touch her, usually, so Scorpia doesn’t feel hurt that her hug is translated through hair.

Scorpia racks her brain for ideas, anything she can do to fix this. Everything is falling apart almost faster than she can take it in. Catra’s sentencing could come at any time, Entrapta could be summoned by Hordak, Scorpia- someone is going to notice her absence, sooner or later. She’s a force captain, she’ll be missed from her post.

A traitorous thought says _who cares,_ and Scorpia embraces it. Who cares if she’s missed? She’s needed here. This is infinitely more important to her than any stupid documents in need of signing or wayward privates in need of orders. Catra is warm and solid against her knees and Entrapta’s hair is clinging like a lifeline. There isn’t a single place in the Fright Zone- on the entire _planet-_ that Scorpia would rather be.

Scorpia thinks of the other places out there, though. Places without the Horde’s reach. She thinks about Entrapta’s offer to banish herself from the Fright Zone. Another terrible, horribly traitorous thought occurs to Scorpia, taking root and invading her mind.

Scorpia has a legacy to uphold. She has duties and responsibilities she’s been raised to fulfill. She has poison in her veins and claws that sheer through metal. She has two of the most important people in her entire _life_ right here with her, teetering on the edge of being lost to her.

“Catra, Entrapta…” Scorpia shifts her careful holds around her friends, taking a steadying breath. “If I asked you both… to _leave_ with me… would you say yes?”

Catra goes very, very still. Entrapta’s eyes snap over to Scorpia’s, wide with understanding.

“You mean-” Entrapta rocks on her heels, anxiously excited, “-leaving the Fright Zone?”

Scorpia nods. Just by saying the idea she’s committed treason- she’d be stripped of her rank, forced into the lowest rungs of their army. And she’d agree that she deserved it, too, if it weren’t for the two incredible women beside her.

They come first. Even before legacy, even before responsibility. Scorpia feels like she’s got an unfamiliar fire burning inside her, bolstering the sudden strength of those thoughts. Catra and Entrapta- they’re _first_ , to Scorpia. Her most important people, the ones she’s loyal enough to that she’d commit high treason.

“You’re insane, you’re _both_ insane,” Catra says, lifting her head slowly. Her eyes don’t betray her thoughts, dual colored sclera showing only resignation. “If we run and they catch us, they’ll kill us all. There won’t be any second chances.”

“I know,” Scorpia replies. She moves her pincers from Catra’s back and takes her hand, using just enough pressure to hold it. “But also I kind of don’t really care anymore.”

“If the Horde doesn’t kill us, the Rebellion will.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Catra looks too tired to muster frustration with Scorpia. She just stares and stares, disbelieving.

“Say no, and we’ll stay,” Scorpia says. “I’ll be right here in this cell with you, and then through trial. Whatever happens, I’m not- I _will not_ let you go, Catra.” Her eyes are stinging again, and she sniffles. This would be much more convincing if Scorpia didn’t feel like sobbing all over her friends. “But please. Please say yes, Catra.”

Catra is silent for too long, long enough Scorpia has mental images of a trial, of a sentencing- of their deaths- but Catra’s hoarse voice breaks those images apart.

“I don’t care,” she says, eyes lowering, ears drooping. “If you wanna risk yourself like that, then fine. Do it. Drag me wherever you want.”

That’s not a yes, but it’s definitely not a no. Scorpia sniffles loudly and beams through her tears. Catra only hisses as she’s enveloped in a bearhug, flailing claws not even scratching. Scorpia is overwhelmed by the desire to kiss her snarling lips and barely, barely stops herself.

She already has so much, she can’t ask for more right now.

Looking to Entrapta, the final member of their trio, Scorpia releases Catra from her hug. “Well?” Scorpia asks, hopes soaring.

Entrapta blinks. She points at herself. “You- you want me to come with you?”

“Of _course,”_ Scorpia says. “How could we leave you behind?”

Entrapta darts a glance at Catra, who looks at her for a long few seconds, and then shrugs. “I already said I don’t care what happens. She can come if she wants.”

The hair still around Scorpia’s arm tightens, jolting as the rest swirls in a flurry as Entrapta exclaims, “Oh! Oh, okay! No one ever- but of course! Duh, I wanna come! Um. Thank you. Thank you very much for letting me. I promise I won’t get in the way and I’ll be very, very useful.”

Scorpia gives her a watery smile. “You don’t have to be useful, Entrapta. We’d want you along anyway.”

“Oh,” Entrapta says in a very small voice. Her hair shifts with her confusion, as well as the little smile she’s making. “I haven’t documented any precedent to an interaction like this, not involving myself in the experiment- but, uh, I suppose there’s always a first time for every discovery.”

Her hand extends from her nest of hair, fingers hesitant as they stop, just short of brushing Scorpia’s chitin. With the utmost care (things break in her claws), Scorpia moves her arm so Entrapta’s slender, calloused digits can clutch it.

“That’s okay,” Scorpia says, belatedly replying to Entrapta’s ramble. “This is the first time for me, too.”

The shine in the princess’s eyes is worth everything to Scorpia, just like the soft huff of breath that ghosts her other arm, a furry weight pressing to her side and not moving away. Her wildcard. Her wildcat.

For a time, Scorpia pretends everything is fine. Then, she sets things in motion.

 

-/-

 

Entrapta is invaluable in getting things together. She monitors chatter over the communication frequencies- _all_ the frequencies, somehow- to keep track of anyone possibly finding out what they’re doing. She belays orders and interrupts messages and just generally causes minor chaos. Scorpia is so very glad she’s on their side.

“Hooray for _backdoors,”_ Entrapta sings, gleefully messing with the digital inventory of supplies and cruisers. Scorpia doesn’t catch any of the furious typing going on, but is satisfied when Entrapta hands her a list of items no one is going to miss.

They do it carefully, but quickly. Scorpia spoke out against Hordak, though she’d recounted herself. Entrapta has been out of the labs for almost forty-eight hours. Catra is imprisoned and everyone has at least half an inkling that they’re the only two people who care about her. Time is ticking down until someone puts together the pieces.

While soldiers are running around, trying to sort out the rash of communication errors and breakdown in the chain of command, Scorpia gathers their supplies. She picks one of the older models of their cruisers- smaller, faster, less weaponry but also without some of the newer trackers imbedded in its systems. She still brings Entrapta over to it once they have everything else, leaving the princess and her drone to rewire every aspect of the ship they can.

Scorpia, meanwhile, goes to Catra.

Scorpia is still a force captain, still a princess. Her third visit to Catra’s cell in two days isn’t opposed in the least. She marches over to it and deactivates the forcefield, this time leaving it wide open behind her as she steps inside.

Catra is sitting against the back wall, her self-inflicted injuries wrapped in bandages. She’d let Scorpia patch her up, not complaining more than she ever does. She now regards Scorpia with hooded eyes, the laziness of an accomplished predator.

“So, we’re really doing this, huh?” Catra says as Scorpia kneels down.

“I mean, what else could I do?” Scorpia says plainly, because she can’t imagine herself doing anything else.

Catra doesn’t reply, just watching Scorpia deactivate the cuffs around her wrists. She does, however, take the claw that’s offered to her, uncaring of the edges or strength of it.

They leave with a pair of false restraints around Catra’s arms. When the wardens try to stop them, Scorpia snaps harshly as she can that this is an _ordered_ removal of former Force Captain Catra from the prison. Just look at the messages from the higher ups; it’s authorized by someone they’re so far below from they haven’t even seen in person before.

The warden reading the message gulps and apologizes, asking Scorpia to please not mention this to Hordak. Scorpia sneers and pushes Catra forwards, not acknowledging the salutes she’s given.

Once they’re out of sight, Scorpia exchanges the cuffs on Catra for a little screen Entrapta made. “It’ll take you right to us,” Scorpia says hastily, glancing around for any witnesses. “Be there in the next ten minutes, or we’ll come looking for you.”

“Ugh, is this _really_ the plan?”

“You won’t be seen this way. Also, Entrapta _does_ say it’s faster, as long as you don’t get lost…”

Catra scowls, but does as she’s told. The air vent is popped open and she slinks inside, muttering as she does. Scorpia sets the cover back into place and takes the long way around to their mutual destination, jogging as she does.

From the lack of soldiers waiting for her return with charged rifles, Entrapta is still inside the cruiser, as instructed. Scorpia is very, very relieved about that. Until the alarms star going off and the loudspeaker starts yelling at them.

Scorpia wastes no time, vaulting onto the cruiser and dropping inside. “What’s happening?” she demands, adrenaline and fear pulsing through her.

“Oh, nothing!” Entrapta says. She waves at one of the many screens in the cockpit- newly attached to the wall via welding. “I just thought it’d be even easier to get away unnoticed if everyone was evacuating, too!”

Scorpia needs a few seconds to take that in. “You signaled a full base _evacuation?”_

“Yep!”

“I- from what?”

“They think a giant magical attack from Bright Moon is currently hurtling towards us all. From the data I gave them, it would wipe this whole section of the Fright Zone off the map!” Entrapta laughs, spinning around on top of her drone to grin at Scorpia. “Isn’t that great? No one’ll be looking for us for _ages.”_

Scorpia puts a pincer to her head, pushing her mussed hair backwards. “It’s certainly _something,_ I’ll give you that.”

Entrapta snorts and laughs more, and Scorpia can’t help the fond smile that she gives the princess.

A thunk on the roof has them both tensing up, going silent, but the figure that lifts the hatch and drops down is a familiar one. Catra stands up, tossing the little screen at Entrapta and crossing her arms. “Alright,” Catra says in a dry tone, “what the fuck did you two do _this time?”_

“Caused mass panic!” Entrapta volunteers cheerily.

“I gathered that from the screaming and running around.”

“So- let’s get going while the goings good, right?” Scorpia says, moving to the controls. She starts the engine, lifting the landing gear and moving the hovering ship forwards. Other cruisers, big and small, are fleeing through the hanger doors already. They don’t even have to make up a lie to fool ground control- everyone is abandoning their stations and trying to save their hides.

The windows and monitors show that the muggy sky is full of panicking ships, flying erratically. Below there are more sirens starting to wail, evacuation underway. Scorpia navigates calmly through the storm and brings them above the smog cover that permanently shrouds the Fright Zone.

The real sky is turning to dusk, edging dark on a far horizon and bleeding reds, oranges, and pinks across the rest. The planets revolving around theirs are big and beautiful in the stratosphere. With everything below hidden from sight, it’s like they’re the only three beings in existence.

“I… can’t believe that worked,” Catra says, a length of time later.

Entrapta spins around to look at her, pausing in her effort to revamp the ship. “Well, _of course_ it worked,” Entrapta exclaims. “Between the three of us, there was only a 45.111% percent chance of failure. And I didn’t even have to activate the kill switch in everyone’s guns for this to work!”

“The what now?” Scorpia says.

Entrapta laughs. “Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t ever put in any of _your_ stuff. I wouldn’t do that to you guys. You’re my- my friends, right…?”

If her friends would stop breaking her heart every five minutes, Scorpia could probably maintain her scary reputation. But, no, her eyes are teary again and there’s no way for her to fight it. “Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat. “We’re definitely, definitely your friends.”

Entrapta look to Catra. Their newly freed friend shuffles her feet, tail lashing as she doesn’t meet their eyes.

“I mean. I don’t… _hate_ you, or anything,” Catra admits grudgingly. “You’re. Tolerable. Sometimes, if you’re not on a sugar bender.”

Entrapta’s hair swells and she beams like that’s the greatest gift someone’s ever given her. Catra’s tail puffs a little and she hurriedly says something about Entrapta not getting any ideas about what she said- which is ignored, because Entrapta might just be able to tell that it’s all bravado. Scorpia gazes at them and wishes she could wrap both of them up against her chest, press every kiss she’s ever wanted to give them to their lips, let them know that she thinks they’re _amazing_ and _wonderful_ and the best people to ever come into her life. That they deserve so much more than what they’ve been given.

They don’t fit in anywhere. Not the Fright Zone, not Bright Moon, not _anywhere._ But, maybe… they really can fit in with each other.

Scorpia looks to their navigator, reading the predicted weather patterns along with it. She sets them a course for an un-inhabited mountain range, far across the continent from the Fright Zone.

The sky is full of stars as they fly, enveloping their little cruiser into the folds of night.

**Author's Note:**

> please yell at me in the comments about this trio of disaster. i feel so alone with my dedication to them.


End file.
